


Once Upon A Reality

by MagiaMyst



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Depressing, F/M, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses, no Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagiaMyst/pseuds/MagiaMyst
Summary: When Billy accidentally alters reality, everything changes. Everyone loses their powers, they are all transformed to a small bubble world, and people forget each other. It has been three years since then, and Billy's body is slowly failing him from the lose of his powers. He is terminally ill with a sickness that no one can diagnose, but all they know is it is killing him. Can their lives, especially Billy's, be saved?





	Once Upon A Reality

**Author's Note:**

> I cried typing this. A LOT.

“So there they were, in the heat of battle, fighting against the evil Mother who wanted to take control of the world and its children. No! The multiverse! Yeah. Wiccan had nowhere to go and only his powers to hold him. Oh, but Mother was sucking up all that power that he was trying to hold onto, trying to trap Mother, or better, make that creature go away forever! But no! He was getting sucked up, his powers being exhausted! There was absolutely nothing that could be done—”   
  
“NO!!! Is Wiccan going to be okay!?”   
  
“He’s a superhero! Superheroes don’t die!!”

 

“But Superman dies a lot.”

 

“Captain America dies sometimes.”

 

“Wolverine never dies!!!”

 

“Yes he do--oes!!!”

 

“Guys, please. Just listen to the story and find out.”

 

“Children, time for medicine! Oh, hello, Billy. Telling another one of your fantastical stories of superheroes?”

 

Billy looked up from the chair he was sitting, away from the children and to the nurse that had walked in. His body looked so frail, so small. An IV was in his arm, hooked to the wheelchair he sat in. His body was so weak that he could not stand anymore. Along with never being able to leave the hospital. His body was just far too weak for that.

 

It was one thing if you were a kid and stuck in the hospital. Parents visiting everyday, for the entire day. People coming to you to tell you stories, or to cheer you up. The Make-a-Wish foundation. But… if you were an adult and stuck in the hospital, especially for as long as Billy had been? People stopped visiting after a year and a half. No one sent him cards or get well things, because there was no getting well. The staff slowly stopped believing in his recovery, even though it was a miracle that he had made it that far. There was just no hope.

 

“See you guys later,” Billy said to the children, offering a weak smile before rolling himself out of the common area for the children’s ward. It was just so hard to do even that. His thin arms shook with the effort he put into doing such a thing, already ready to give up.

 

“Back to your room?” A nurse asked, which had Billy looking over with another weak smile. “Well, yeah. It’d be rude to sit in on the kids taking their medicine,” he said before looking back in front of him, ready to go forward.

 

It was a bit of a pitiful sight, seeing the terminally ill guy trying to move his wheelchair, but of course, the nurses had to be oh so helpful. The one that spoke to him even asked if they could help him get back to his room. He of course said yes. There was no way he could get to his room without help. And so the long journey of going down halls, through doors, and up elevators began. It did not take long, time wise, but it sure was a workout for the nurse. Billy felt sort of envious. His eyes went to his weak legs, wondering if he would ever be able to walk like that again. No wait. He knew he would never walk like that. He would never be able to walk. It was all just hopeless.

 

When they finally got to his room, the nurse had to help him into bed, where he wished he could be comfortable. “Thank you,” he said with a small smile. “Of course. Is there anything I can get you?” The nurse asked, politely. “Just some alone time,” was Billy’s response.

 

With that, the nurse left the sickly man alone. The light was on, the door was closed, and Billy was feeling worse than usual. Tears stung his eyes, but he tried his hardest to blink them back. The least he could do is be strong enough not to cry! Not again! It always happened when he was alone. Sure, he asked for it, to be alone, but he was also just fine telling stories to the children. It was distracting from his own problems. From never being able to walk. From the pain that wrecked his body. From the horrible want to die. From it all.

 

And like that, the tears fell. He could not stop them any longer. They just rolled down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto his lap. His hand covered his mouth as a sob tried to escape him. No one needed to overhear this. Horribly alone, crushed by life, and too weak to jump off the roof, Billy cried. He cried so hard that he started coughing, but that did not stop it. His lungs burned, his nose became clogged, his eyes stung, and his body shook. It would not be for a long half hour before he stopped.

 

After that session in bed, he curled himself up and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. That was the only place he could be happy. He dreamed of himself being Wiccan. Of having friends that actually wanted to stay by his side. Friends that would always be there for him. A family that loved him enough to always ask how he was doing. Of everything that he was not.

 

Sleep did not last long though, as a nurse came in to give him some pill or another. He woke up with puffy, red eyes, a sniffle, a pout on his lip, and the look of a kicked dog. People say that you feel better after crying, some scientific studies say that as well, but when you are so depressed that life could never be worth living, then you just can’t feel better after anything. Food was bland, color was dull, life was humorless. There was nothing worth living. Nothing except telling those stories to the children.

 

Billy took his meds, swallowed them with some ice water. Afterwards, the nurse set a dinner pamphlet on the bed table then left, saying nothing about his saddened state. They would talk to the doctor about that.

 

It took him a good long minute to reach out for the dinner pamphlet, but when he looked it over nothing interested him. It had been a year since food had actually interested him. Usually he could not keep it down anyway, but the doctors and nurses always wanted him to try to eat. To try to keep it down. To try. But… why should he try? He knew his life was practically over. He was withering away. Turning to dust.

 

Staring at his skeletal hands, nothing but skin keeping his structure together, Billy placed the pamphlet back down and turned onto his side to stare out the window. He was so glad for a private room. Sharing one would just make everything awkward. It would be like “oh hey, I know I’m dying, but I’ll try not to die on your side of the room!” Yeah. That would be fun.

 

Ten minutes passed before a nurse came to check on him and his order. Though when they picked up the pamphlet a frown came to their face. This was expected, but always sad. “How about we mark down the macaroni and cheese, green beans, and cranberry juice?” they said, cheerfully, to which Billy responded with a “yeah, sure.” They left after that.

 

Cranberry juice… Macaroni and cheese… Billy remembered a time when he would be excited for those. When they tasted so good he would be asking for more. A time when he drank an entire container of cranberry juice in one sitting. Those were happy times. Before the illness…

 

It was about half an hour before dinner came, to which Billy refused to move for. Why bother? It was not going to taste good. It was probably microwaved. There was also most likely no seasoning on the green beans. Steamed. Definitely steamed. No butter. No salt. Would those things even do it for him? Probably not. So he laid there and let his food get cold.

 

Five minutes later a nurse came with meds. It would be another hour before it was time for vitals and the last round of meds for the night. “Bill, yo—” “Billy.” “—u haven’t even opened the container. How do you know you won’t like it if you don’t look at it?” the nurse joked, a patient smile on their face.

 

Billy did not answer, though. He simply took his medication before rolling back onto his side and staring out the window. What did the breeze feel like? He forgot. He also forgot what the grass felt like. Along with the smell of grass. A tree under his palm. Water around him as he went swimming. Playing Dungeons and Dragons with the friends he once had.

 

The nurse soon left after talking about how food might help him feel a little better, to which Billy never responded. So, since Billy kept refusing to talk, the nurse did all of that, then left. Once again, he was alone. Maybe he could get another nap in before he needed to take more meds. Closing his tired eyes, a headache dully pounding in his head, Billy nodded off.

 

It was about half an hour before he was woken by someone knocking on his door. A visitor? This late? Couldn’t have been. His eyes opened as the door did, and he rolled onto his other side to see who it was. Then he saw it. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pierced ears. “Teddy?”

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?


End file.
